


Dinner Entertainment

by RussianWitch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, Food Kink, Food is People, M/M, Mindfuck, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Table Sex, because really in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal enjoys watching Will eat.<br/>Enjoys making Will eat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd

"Do you want another bite?" Hannibal's lips brush against his ear, coarse voice stirring the beast the psychiatrists should have been soothing once upon a time.

Will digs his nails into the armrests of his chair deliberately not looking at the plate. "Will," there is a note of censure in Hannibal's voice, but what is he going to do?

"Yes—," he isn't sure which question he's answering, with his body betraying him on so many counts.

"Good, I'm happy you like it." The carefully laden fork rises, neat and beautifully arranged just like everything else in the room: hiding the depravity underneath a rich, cream sauce as the case may be.

Will could refuse the bite, turn his head away, and accept the consequences... The hand in his lap tightens around him, rough, yet careful and perfect stroking him from root to tip. Not hard enough to force him to completion, not gentle enough for him to lose interest.

He used to have nightmares about this: about giving in to Hannibal and allowing himself to get dragged into the darkness that's chased him most of his life.

Behind him, Hannibal presses closer: a living backrest, his breath stirring the hairs at the back of Will's neck annoyingly. As long as Will is chewing: he's pleasured if he stops—Perversely Will is reminded of childhood, not being allowed to leave the table until he'd cleaned his plate. Hannibal never has a problem waiting him out, they've spent multiple pleasant afternoons and evenings chatting about art and psychology as his lunch got cold and erection painful.

It's always just a matter of time before he gives in before Will gets confused who's mind he's wandering through and indulges in handing over control of his mind and morals to Hannibal.

"Who was this?" He asks, around another mouthful, swallowing a painful moan when Hannibal pinches him painfully, reminding Will to mind his manners.

"Does it matter?" A forkful disappears over his shoulder, part of him wants to turn and watch Hannibal's enjoyment of the—food.

"Not really I suppose, just—curious," he gasps between bites, Hannibal's lips brushing this neck, surprisingly blunt and human teeth scraping his skin.

A predator like Hannibal should look it: should have fangs and claws, possibly horns. "All you need to know is there was ample justification for my actions against her," the monster finally answers.

"A woman,—interesting," he shifts his hips, pushing into Hannibal's hand.

"Is it?" Maybe it is not that interesting to the monster, after all to Hannibal all his victims are cattle. He'd never had a preference for male over female as far as Will is able to tell: on a plate it really makes little difference. "You don't often encounter rude women it seems."

"Will—," Hannibal strokes faster, his fingers growing slick with Will's juices. "Eat your supper, or you shall not have any dessert." He turns, knocking his shoulder into Hannibal's chest in annoyance to see the amusement in the maroon eyes. A napkin appears out of thin air, dabbing Will's lips until Hannibal is satisfied with—something. Will lunges forward, digs his teeth into the fleshy part of Hannibal's hand just below his thumb: not enough to break the skin, just make it sting a little and watch fire ignite in the monster's eyes.

"Was that really necessary?"

"You were boring me," He accuses, his body tightening: blood pressure rising, muscles tensing ready for fight or flight. Getting wrenched out of the chair isn't much of a surprise, being spun around and deposited on the dinner table is. Hannibal reaches behind him, sweeping the whole beautiful dinner setup off the surface to make room for Will to lie back. He wiggles his hips getting comfortable, then raises his arms above his head leaving himself exposed and vulnerable.

Hannibal is still perfectly composed, looming over him with even his tie in order.

"One of these days—, "he doesn't have to finish the sentence for Will to know: one of these days he's going to push too far. He also knows that between the two of them there is no such thing as too far between the two of them. Knows that Hannibal knows that too. The wrinkled button down that's already earned him several reproachful looks since he put it on is torn apart, buttons skipping across the room leaving him completely exposed.

The monster lunges and Will moans at as a hot skilled mouth works it's way down his chest, pays particular attention to his vulnerable belly leaving bite marks across the scars and finally closes around his dick.

Fear allows Will to feel even minute sensations: every breath, every brush of skin, every accidental scrape of teeth. He arches his neck, looking down at the tawny head moving in his lap, to meet content maroon eyes.

His legs are immobilized, Hannibal's body pinning him down, trousers now tangled around his knees. Will would be wrapping them around Hannibal's waist messing up his vest otherwise. As if reading his thoughts, there is a tug between Will's knees and he can do as he wants.

Will considers complaining about the loss of another pair of trousers, only that would mean getting dragged to the tailor, and he has better things to do with his time. He is tempted to reach down, dig his fingers in Hannibal's hair and drag him up, lick into the monster's mouth until they are both out of breath.

He has to bite back a whimper of displeasure when Hannibal disappears; steps back without warning leaving Will spread out on the dining table like a spoiled banquet.

"Get back here!" He growls in annoyance, rising on his elbows only to be pushed back down.

"Shall I tie you?" Hannibal offers or threatens as he works his tie free. The long strip of heavy silk lands on Will's chest. For a moment he contemplates closing his eyes and the way the silk would feel on his face if he asked Hannibal to blindfold him. He could imagine someone else taking advantage of his body then, only Hannibal wouldn't allow it and Will isn't under any illusions—even if he wanted to indulge in a couple now and then.

Hannibal has been reveling in not having to wear a mask around Will too much, not having to wear a 'people suit' as a friend of Hannibal's called the act the monster usually put up.

Will used to want restraints, so he could indulge in the illusion of lack of consent. They are past that now: guilt is a heavy stone low in his gut he's gotten used to carrying around. It will disappear eventually, most likely ripped out along with the rest of his guts when Hannibal grows tired of him.

"Hannibal—! Stop playing!" He snaps half-heartedly, his train of thought derailing at the sight of his monster's bare body.

A smug smile plays on thin lips, just asking to be bitten off as Hannibal climbs onto the table to kneel over Will and leans down for a lazy kiss.

"Do not lie, Will. You enjoy our games as much as I do," Hannibal reaches back, closes his hand around Will's dick holding him firm as he mounts Will with a soundless moan sinking down slowly until he's seated fully. Delicate shivers run through the monster's body as he adjusts.

Will shouldn't be surprised that Hannibal has no objections to being penetrated, enjoys the act greatly, in fact, common prejudice is anathema to him.

"The thought of a part of you being inside me, is as pleasing to you, as it is to me." Sex being the substitute to Will ending up on a plate or Hannibal with a bullet in his head. Their little compromise that leaves them as connected as they are likely to get while still breathing.

"Fuck me already!" Will demands, thrusting his hips up as much as he's able. Hannibal gasps and growls falling forward to brace himself on Will's shoulders, rolling his hips slowly.

"My dear Will," the monster's hair is finally getting mussed: falling into Hannibal's eyes. Will has the urge to reach up to brush it away, instead, he huffs trying to blow the strands away and succeeding only in amusing his lover.

"Give me your pleasure!" Hannibal demands, and Will joins in the amusement: laughing while fighting the need to close his eyes in pleasure. Will wraps his hands around Hannibal's wrists feeling for a pulse. He squeezes Hannibal's wrists hard, bends his knees to give himself leverage and thrusts up, grinding himself hard into the monster's body.

He forces Hannibal back, pushing and guiding until they are crossed in the small of Hannibal's back. Not the most comfortable position for either of them, but strangely satisfying none the less.

"Don't I always?" He muses against Hannibal's jaw, working his way down until he's panting against the monster's chest. Will can imagine digging his teeth in, ripping skin and muscle until he gnaws his way to Hannibal's beating heart to gorge himself on hot, still pumping blood. He looks up into maroon eyes and knows that Hannibal enjoys the fantasy as well.

The monster has been on the top of the food chain for so long, that being viewed as prey is its own form of excitement, tantalizing and perverted. He growls his pleasure, fanning the flames of terror always smoldering at the back of his mind. In a way the fit together like pieces of a puzzle: twisted mirror images of each other. Hannibal shifts tightening his body and Will is left gasping, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Hannibal!" He sobs thrashing and moaning as he finds his release.

"Thank you, Will," the far too composed monster purrs, getting off of him still hard and wanting, "that was—beautiful."

"You need glasses," Will waits for his breathing to level out again before rolling over, reaching for Hannibal's dick eager to return the favor.

"I need your mouth," Hannibal reaches for him, fingertips ghosting across Will's lips pushing into his mouth to hook behind Will's teeth to pull him down. He bites down, just enough to leave imprints on Hannibal's skin before pulling off to sink his teeth into the fleshy part of the hip. Hannibal gasps, his hand finds the nape of Will's neck, thumb pressing into the soft spot right at the base of the skull urging Will on.

There will come a time when this won't be enough, when he'll want to bite down or Hannibal will, when they will become bored of each other or familiarity will breed enough contempt for it to turn deadly.

Fortunately, they aren't there yet, perhaps still a long way away still, the occasional chase and hunt providing enough distraction to keep things interesting.

Will swallows his lover down, until his nose is brushing soft pubic hair, the ample flesh denying him breath. He sucks slowly enjoying the sighs, and aborted actions his ministrations elicit until Hannibal squeezes his neck in warning and his mouth is flooded. 

Will settles down, drapes himself over Hannibal's chest counting heartbeats until the monster's fastidiousness takes over. He's herded off the table, and upstairs into the shower with gentle touches and soft kisses that make progress slower than it needs to be. If he could forget the content of Hannibal's pantry, their pantry, Will would almost consider the whole thing domestic.

"Tell me her name," he asks against Hannibal's lips, as the water starts. The monster's eyes flare, and Will is pressed against the chilly tiles, teeth scraping his throat.


End file.
